3 December: Whoops, didn't realise some of the links were broken! All fixed now, and received and posted a beautiful pic of Ikaris by Annette. Thank you so much! ^_^

17 May: Added Plushie adoptie and size sheet.

12 May: Added Christmas, Orange, Silver adopties.

27 Nov: Added Cloud, Glowing and Halloween adopties.

13 Nov: What is this? Seems some above-worlders have stumbled onto the city of Moltara. Not one of ours of course, the architecture is absolutely ghastly compared to our elegant and aesthetic lines of work. But should they poke their noses this way they will find out they are not welcome soon enough.

When you have lost everything...

[ Ikaris ]

Would you return?

Press Esc to stop playing the music.

Go away....
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You climb the steep rock face, breathing hard and fast, the exertion taking its toll on your body. Your camera rattles around in its case, slung over one of your shoulders. Small embers swirl and twirl past you ceaselessly in an everlasting dance of fire and the thick smoke clouds your vision, but a smile tugs at your lips anyway. You're almost there. Your hands are burning from numerous cuts and grazes you received from the rough rock but you don't notice the ache anymore. You've come too far to stop now....finally you see it. The ridge, the tell-tale reddish glow and the intensifying heat which signifies that you've reached the top, the crater of the volcano.

You stand at the top, bent over and gasping for air, struggling to breathe in the thick smoky air. Your throat burns and your eyes water. But, feverish with excitement you grasp at your camera and start to take photographs of the beautiful lava flows and small but intricate lava plumes. An hour later you sit down on a protruding rock and can't help but beam. The photos are going to be fantastic when you develop them! Prize winning for sure. Standing up, you creep over to the edge for one last look at the shifting lava but with the intense heat making it painful to stay too close to the edge. The shifting lava evokes memories of a tale of a lost city of ancients beings, a great civilisation that made its home high in the volcanic regions. They were prosperous and well known for millenia, and then nothing. They had not been seen nor heard of for centuries.

Suddenly the world around you roars and the earth shudders beneath your feet. Cracks race through the ground and in a split second you are falling, falling to your searing instant death.

You close your eyes waiting, time seems to slow down to eternity. A ferocious voice bellows within your mind crying of rage, pain, burning. A shriek echoes and powerful large talons dig roughly into your clothes. You shriek from the pain but you're also no longer falling but being lifted up, battered by powerful gusts of wind. Your eyes are clenched tight, the pressure on your arms lessen and abruptly you're falling again, but only for a few seconds before you hit ground with a solid thump and a cloud of dust. Gasping you sit up painfully and look around for your rescuer. Glancing at your gouged bleeding arms you decide that he also has no tact. A hulking shadow paces back and forth nearby, his form obscured. But he's big. Really big. Looking around, you find yourself on a wide precipice, one side overlooking the volcano crater, the other leading into a small cave. A snarl and the creature leaps forward and stops before you, hunched over with bright fiery eyes that literally burn, the eyes of a predator. Despite his demeanor, he truly is a magnificent eyrie with scarlet body plumage, and black wings and tail feathers, accented by gold patterning. The golden crest upon his head is arched forward in anger, but despite his ferocious appearance, you are no longer overwhelmed by his emotions or thoughts as you did when you were falling. He steps forward scowling and the voice pierces through your thoughts again. "I lost control the first time you heard me." This time however, you can detect no emotion whatsoever. It is cool, calm and crisp. You feel like somehow he is probing or searching your mind. Uncomfortable, you turn away and break contact.

The eyrie takes another step forward again and this time, to your immense surprise, speaks out loud in a deceivingly deep baritone voice "Why are you here you foolish human? You are trespassing upon my domain. In fact I probably should have let you fall to your death, but for some reason..." He pauses and scowls again before an intense wave of anger hits you. Reeling, you feel faint and nauseous. You grasp your forehead, fighting to stay conscious, but its too much and a wave of blackness overtakes you.

You wake up within the cave, a small fiery creature gazing at you with large solemn eyes. Sitting up, you pet the little Valeous who croons and rubs against your leg like a giant mockery of a cat. He flits over to the edge of the precipice and you follow. Looking down into the sea of lava, you see to your immense shock, the eyrie is swimming in the lava, and diving in quite happily and without any apparent harm, fishing out what appears to be fire salamanders before swallowing them.

You sit down hard on a rock, amazed and taken aback. The creature is capable of withstanding incredible heat! The Valeous settles down near you. "You know, he wasn't always like this. Ikaris has been through a lot. He just doesn't like surprises....or trespassers" Looking around, to your immense shock you see the Valeous grinning impishly up at you before remarking again "I am Aiydan, 'little fire'. Would you like to know more about Ikaris? I can tell you about his past if you so wish to hear it, and perhaps it will encourage you not to come poking around here again." Intrigued, you nod. It would be interesting to hear about this mysterious creature.

A shadow swooped over them and Ikaris landed in a cloud of dust before them. "That won't be necessary Aiydan! The human has no right to know anything!" He snarled. The Valeous merely turned his head to the side and stared intently at the eyrie. "But I believe they should know. At least they can spread the word not to venture up here." Ikaris glowered before relenting and sat heavily on his haunches. "Fine. I'll try to keep it as brief as possible human.

I am the Gatekeeper. But it was not always so. Millenia past we had no need, we were not burdened by the knowledge or the responsibilities of watching the Gate.
Our kind has not walked this earth for centuries, known to the outside world as a race of 'eyries' but that does not do our race justice, it is lamentably deficient in characterizing us. We are the Seraphane, those born of fire, whose hearts and souls are inextricably linked to the furnace of the earth. We were a great and prolific race, thriving in volcanic regions living deep below ground in our great caverns. Our power over the fire and earth was incomparable to others. We thrived where no others could, we built where no others could, we were mighty.

And we were wantonly arrogant.

We built our Heart city in the caverns below these very mountains, but we weren't limited to living beneath the earth in our rocky fortress. The great skies above was our terrain too, we were masters of the earth and skies, uniquely gifted to be masters of these elements. But we were also the guardians of a terrible secret. We were the Gatekeepers, controllers of an almighty and malevolent demon who if unleashed would effectuate such unbridled wrath with terrifying boundless power, everything within his reach would be destroyed. Extinguished. Gone.

We weren't always his Keepers. Millenia ago, our ancestors were excavating within our great caverns, searching for more of the precious material known as 'firerock'. Due to our greed, we dug too deep, unearthing an enormous cavern deep below our own. But, this cavern was not not of natural formation - its wall were smooth firerock and set on one wall was a vast set of doors. At the foot of these doors lay a single pair of scorched golden bracers lying in a pile of golden dust. A great red gem lay quietly in the pile. Confounded by this structure, built by those who had even preceded our ancient race, there was great dissent on the proper course of action.

The greatest spellweavers and minds of the time were called forth to appraise the structure. The Serlonan sent a probe, fashioned thinly so as to detect any weaknesses in the enchantments sealing the doors. Finding none, he, supplemented by the power of the weavers, allowed a probe to be absorbed through the doors. Ordinarily, the probe would have dissipated, but bolstered by the strength of the others, the probe was able to emerge on the other side of the doors. For a single instant in time, the Serlon had the impression of something huge, so vast it was incomprehensible and utterly ravenous. Then the probe was gone. Snuffed out as if it had never been. We had stumbled upon the antithesis of magicka.

We called him Jarzaloth, the hunger. It is difficult to put into words exactly what he was. He was an entity so powerful and so ravenous for magick he had been deemed unfit to inhabit the earth alongside other living beings. But the natural progression is that other questions needed to be answered such as who and why? Some entity greater than Jarzaloth had imprisoned him, and as for the reason, we had numerous theories. Perhaps it was that Jarzaloth had not always been so powerful, but imprisonment over millenia or eons meant that his strength festered in his dark cell.

Regardless, he was not fit for this world. Releasing him would be catastrophic by virtue of the fact that he was hunger. He could never be sated. In a world so infused with magick, his presence would be devastating. It was ludicrous to even consider controlling him - there were no chains or binds physical, metaphysical or magickal that could restrain him or soothe his hunger. No, this was something we could not fathom nor did we dare.

The bracers however, were a mystery. It took many months of the closest scrutiny by Spell Weavers, but it was found that the Bracers were imbued with immense magick, but one unknown to us. It was far more ancient than anything we had ever encountered. The tentative conclusion was that they were part of the magick keeping the gates closed, but the magick appeared to be incomplete. The bracers only had the ability to bind the gates shut, but Jarzaloth was growing restless and the great gates were barely restraining him. The cavern within which the gates were contained was always deathly cold despite the immense temperatures of the surrounding environment as a result of his essence leaking through the speedily disintegrating barriers. We feared that our discovery had agitated him and soon the ancient magicks would no longer hold the beast.

This then, is where the dust and the great red gem that were found alongside the bracers came into importance. They were in fact, the other half of the ancient magick, the half that soothed the hunger and kept him still. However, the form in which they were was useless to us. We could not direct or control the magick weaves from mere dust!
So it came to be that the dust was reformed by our blacksmiths to form a golden mask, with the red gem set as a magnificent glittering centerpiece. Together, the two pieces had the power to bind Jarzaloth and prevent him from escape. A new role was formed on that day when the ancient magick sealing the hunger was renewed at last.

The role of the Gatekeeper.

Over time the memory of the danger beneath faded, not quite into oblivion, but deep into the psyche of the Seraphane. Time moved on, and foolishly, many forgot the old caution and the knowledge we had gained so long ago of the hunger. Moreover, the role of the Gatekeeper shifted from a station of great power where the services of the keeper were actively required, to no more than a celebrated figurehead of ceremonial importance, called upon only at festivals.

We were a proud people, that much is evident. Our race was as great as it had ever been, but some dissented with the Kurzan's policy of peace and gaining of wealth and power through trading and magical influences. The dissentors were a minority, only numbering twenty or so and were mostly young and rash; they wanted to move and expand the Serapahnian dominion to outside and beyond our caverns. Beyond the mountains to where there were rolling green hills and endless horizons, to where white powder fell from the skies and boundless water crashed onto rocky shores. The elder council reasoned with them of course; chief among the arguments put forward that we did not need more space - our people were comfortable and we were creatures born of the fire and earth....what use did we have for the green lands?

But nonetheless, the dissenters were disturbing the peace of our cities and rallying others to their cause. In the end a compromise was reached. The dissenters were allowed to leave, to make their own way in the world. They were set the task to forge bonds with other societies, develop trade routes and find another site so as to build another great city.

The Kurzan's own son, Rikar, was known to be a dissenter. But while his comrades left, he stayed behind, bound to his duty as a Korzath, a princeling in waiting. Those close to him knew he took this poorly.

Now I had grown up with Rikar, and together with Darion and Tiront we were the truest of friends. Rikar was third in line for the throne so he was not manacled on the strict chain that his elder brother and sister had the misfortune to submit to.

.......

Rikar took Darion's death hard, placing the blame on his own shoulders for encouraging Darion to attempt such advanced magick. He began to isolate himself and withdraw from me and his other acquaintances, becoming brooding and despondent. Mentally, he ailed. He sunk into a deep spiral and nothing nor no one could rescue him. Nor was there in his eyes, any redemption left for him in this world.

If only I had tried harder to reach him, but how could I have known what strange connections he was making in his mind? Because Darion had been destroyed by magick, and because Jarzaloth was the antithesis of magick, the tenuous conclusion that Rikar came to was that Jarzaloth had the ability to undo what had been done and revive Darion. The notion was completely absurd on so many levels, but nonetheless, that is what Rikar in his ailing state believed and acted upon.

For many millennia we had guarded this ancient secret and were ruled by a wise leader. King. But yet, few of our clan knew of the secret we guarded. It was kept within the king's closest circles. The amulet itself was kept within a sacred temple, guarded by the Gatekeeper.

The unthinkable came to pass four centuries ago. The current king was Lord Khalar, and his heir was Rikash, my best friend. We had grown up together, but as of late we had grown apart. Our society chose the roles for our young ones depending on what they were best suited at and I was being trained to be the next Gatekeeper to take over after my father withdrew, and Rikash was to take over the throne. Up till then, we had been living in the golden age of our society. But Rikash grew greedy, seeking power, knowledge and wealth. He had only recently discovered the secret of the gate and the monster within, Rior. Unbeknownst to anyone, he nurtured a misguided notion that by freeing Rior, he would control it and become vastly powerful. A true ruler of the world.

Then, that fateful night, the unthinkable happened. Rikash snuck out to the temple. I was soaring round the city on night watch as part of my training and was half asleep when I saw him slinking around the streets. Gut feeling told me something was wrong especially after hearing the conversation he had with his new cronies earlier that week, but I waived off any doubts and told myself he was probably having some harmless fun away from the pressures of being heir. But as I circled over the city, I had second thoughts.

If only I had acted sooner.

Upon entering the temple, I found that the amulet was gone from its pedestal. I felt like the ground was giving way beneath me. I was one of the few that knew the true implications of Rior being released. I raced through the temple, to the gate that lead to the enormous caverns below. The door was open. I sprinted down the stairs through the darkness, praying I was not too late. As I reached the base of the stairs, I saw the gargantuan gates grinding open slowly before a diminutive figure. A massive being of solid smoke and racing fire stepped forward. I could feel the burning rage and ancient malevolence emanating from it. Rikash stood at its feet proclaiming instructions. But It was...pure evil. The deity took no notice of the figure at its feet shouting orders.... What obligation did it have? It was free to unleash its power upon the world. I barrelled into the fool Rikash knocking him over and grasping for the amulet. But still it was too late. The monster gave a bellowing roar of a laugh and raised his arms, spoke one terrible word and there was a flash of blinding light. We were both knocked unconscious. I awoke only a few minutes later, but the world was silent. I had no idea what Rior had done, but he had to be sealed again. Using the last of my strength, I recounted my training and created the necessary pentacles and weaved the spell. Another flash of light and thick black smoke poured back into the room, a maelstrom of darkness choking me for a few moments before being sucked back into the door. The doors seemed to heave a sigh and creaked shut, the monster sealed once again.

I was alive, as was Rikash. The amulet had protected us. But yet, my heart was heavy, not knowing what I would find in the world above. I traversed the stairs and through the empty temple.

Standing on the front stairs, I gazed upon the city. The silence was absolute. A city of death, but yet, it wasn't. Before me stood statues of the populace frozen in rock. Echoes of the living, unmoving and stationary. Walking through the desolate streets, the silence was crushing. An entire civilisation just wiped out because of the greed of one foolish creature. When I returned to the gate, Rikar was gone. I have not seen him since.

The fool. The rash, heedless fool.

Since that day, I have lived here, the Gatekeeper. The city remains unchanged, preserved by the ancient magick imbued within the city itself. If you wander the silent streets, they are all still there, frozen in time as they were four centuries ago. Unchanged, undamaged but yet lifeless. Young Seraphanes are paused in the midst of playing, guards stroll the street, merchants barter at their stalls with customers. I still cling to the hope that one day the great clan of the Seraphane shall live again. Until then, the city slumbers in the darkness, lit by the soft glow of the surrounding molten rock, waiting for that day. And beneath it, the gate remains closed. Closed for ever more as I am its eternal guardian and nothing shall sway me to unleash the terror that lurks within.

*************************

Ikaris pauses and grimaces. "Are you satisfied Aiydan? The human knows of the woeful fate of my race and the evil that lurks beneath. Is there anything else?" The Valeous grins and shrugs. "I think you've pretty much covered it. Human, use your head. You know what to do with this tale right? Tell others not to venture here..or.." He glances at Ikaris "The big scary red monster will get 'em." Ikaris snarls and turns to you. "Well human, had enough yet? Are you ready to go back?" You nod dumbly and climb gingerly onto his back. The great beast launches into the air and flies you to a lower part of the volcano, where you can make your way safely back to the nearby village. Before he takes off though, he gives you a heart-warming parting message "Return again and I'll push you into the lava myself!" before disappearing into the thick black smoke, leaving you to ponder his tale and the fate of his people. You decide that his case merits some research as a solution to the fate of his people may yet emerge.

Magma,I feel most invigorated whilst I am swimming in the intense heat of the molten rock. I am a being of fire after all.

Fire Salamanders,My favourite meal, they thrive in the magma. They are rather difficult to catch as their skin secretes a special substance, but no match for a skilled predator armed with talons and a wickedly curved beak. Whilst in the magma, they are a burning white-yellow as they absorb the heat and feed off it. When they rest on rocks, their colour fades to a mottled brown.

Lightmites,No good for eating, although Aiydan has a bit of a fettish for them. No, I enjoy their beauty. They are drawn to the light of the volcano and are about the only insect life you will see beneath the ground in the caverns. From a distance they appear to be floating lights, dancing above the cities.

Combat,Although I have not fought in many ages, when the city was alive an annual tournament, known as the Valernon was held in the Heart city. Many Seraphanes came from the outer cities to join in the festivities and dare I say, show off their abilities. It was a display of young Seraphanian's skills and prowess in combat or magick, always a highly anticipated event. I for one was skillful at combat...

Every Seraphane has an innate resistance to extremely high temperatures, as long as our inner fire is synchronized with the outer heat, we will not burn. It is this innate resistance that allows us to enjoy the molten lava with no discomfort. However, if we wish to venture beyond the normal realms of tolerance, our magick must be invoked to shield ourselves. These abilities allow us to venture to depths within the earth that no one else can even dream of, with technology or otherwise.

As I have previously mentioned, every Seraphane, child or Elder, possesses magick. The degree to which each individual is thus infused of course varies, but everyone, even the youngest child, has the ability to bend elements to their will and speak mind-to-mind. Those who are tested at the age of twenty and found to have a high natural proficiency or excess of magicka, are sent to be schooled at the Academy and become Spell Weavers.

A silent, stoic type and weary of the world, Sakiir like I, has a murky, secretive past from ages ago. He divulges nothing and it rather seems he prefers it that way. As far as I can tell, he is searching for a soul who he once lost, but deep down he knows they cannot be found. Sakiir just prefers to immerse himself in the human literature, and dusty old scrolls, it is how he bears his loss. As he says to me, if he is going to be stuck here for eternity, why not do some light reading? At any rate, he feels that he may as well get to know the creatures of this world better and learn how our minds work. But honestly I think he also finds the literature rather entertaining, though I know he would never admit that. I can feel a great power slumbering within - when I questioned him about it, he merely laughed and told me that when he was exiled, he was stripped of most of is talents. What is left behind is a bare minimum. It seems his exile has not eroded his arrogance. He is a great source of wisdom and we are brothers bonded by our mutual pain and guilt - the consequences of which were of our own making.

Aiydan is my Valeous companion, and a more arrogant, presuming creature you could never hope to meet.

But he keeps me sane.

His natural heat resistance is not to the same extent as mine, so a long time ago I cast heat weaves on him so as no harm could come to him in this volatile environment. Despite his faults, he has been a good friend; quick-witted, cunning, intelligent and often has unusual foresight and an uncanny ability to predict certain events which leads me to suspect he may have a touch of the Sight. He however, stubbornly continues to maintain that he is merely lucky or of exceeding intelligence.

Rather feline-like, he enjoys baking on the hot rocks that have been heated by the magma and clambering into ridiculous places. He has all the grace and poise attributed to felines, but also has a streak of their independent and aloof nature.

There are a number of creatures that reside in this area. Some are benign, but others can be downright vicious.

Sklyde

These skeletal creatures are quite fascinating due to their very appearance! Although they appear to be walking skeletons, research by our weavers indicate that this may be a farce, and in fact the Sklyde has a normal body but like us, has an innate reservoir of magick which they use to cast this odd illusion. No one quite knows why, but they are known to be capable of being quite nasty. Generally they are even-tempered, until they scent food. These scavengers will become frenzied and vicious when they sense prey, so be wary. They like to move in packs, but it is not unusual to find lone sklydes.

Vaeolus

Vaeolus are one of the gentler inhabitants of this region. They are quite common in Altador, but they love the high temperatures near the volcano and in the underground. Generally quite mild, Vaeolus are very intelligent and possess many unique capabilities. They have very keen eyesight and hearing and are superb hunters. However, avoid nesting Vaeolus, they can be quite temperamental when guarding their young.

Minitheus

These creatures are relatively rare in this region, but there have been sightings, particularly of the fire variety. Minitheus are loyal and noble creatures with a strong affinity for magic. Due to their nature, they rarely pose a threat to humans or the Serapahne, but yet are still feared for their capabilities. They prefer to live in solitude.

Fire Alabriss

Only the fire Alabriss resides in this region, the high temperatures being too much for the ordinary variety. These creatures are very small but incredibly fast. Don't let their appearance deceive you! If they feel threatened they will fight formidably. They enjoy feeding on the fire-grass that grows around the volcano as it makes their fiery manes and tails glow brighter and stronger. Having said that, they are rather vain too.

Hydruplit

This three headed serpent has adapted quite well to living in this region, thriving on insects such as lightmites. They tend to be solitary creatures and are rather ferocious if threatened - they have quills along their back that secrete a dangerous poison as a defence mechanism, but they only use this as a last resort. They prefer to intimidate their foe into backing off by rearing on their back legs, hissing and flaring their quills.

Moltenore

Moltenores are rather curious creatures. Their bodies can withstand temperatures of thousands degrees and be unharmed. As a result, it is not an uncommon sight to see these fire lizards playing in the magma and relishing the heat. They are actually cold to the touch because they are masters of containing their fierce heat within their body. They thrive on lightmite and fire fish which they hunt in the magma. Generally, they are very friendly towards strangers.

The city itself is situated underground within an enormous network of caverns, about 200ft below the surface. Likewise, there are a number of major cities located within these caverns, but the Heart city is Sorenta. Sprawling over many miles and at its center, looming over the entire city is the great Castle of the Seraphanes. In the midst of the castle lies the Filimiac tower, a great tower made of white marble. This tower provides the light to the all the caverns and was powered for centuries dutifully by the citizens' magic. Each day, when the cities were alive and bustling with energy, each citizen would offer up a tiny portion of their magicka at sunrise [sounded by the bell in the Filimiac tower] to the tower's keeper whom would store and divert the magicka to keep the light burning. In this way, by a cooperative effort, every soul was a part of keeping the light shining day after day. Now of course the cities stand dark - only a dull glow emanating from the surrounding magma provides any illumination for the dark, empty streets.

The city's architecture is constructed from varying materials, depending upon the the wealth and status of the families. The Serapahanes had a penchant for the dramatic and classical style architecture, so while meandering down any street you will never see any squat or drab buildings. Even the poorest shaped their dwellings into something they could be proud of. The most common homes are built from granite, quarried stone and limestone, whereas the wealthier level of society, the Ilunas tended to have homes made from what we call firerock. It is a black marble-like material with gold veins running through it. It is quarried from deep beneath the earth, at depths sometimes where even we, with our vast resistance to heat and enforced by magick, cannot reach it. Found to be enormously strong, heat resistant and a great receptacle of magick, it is prized among us and a home built from this is a symbol to all of the owner's superior wealth or status. Once bound with magick, it creates an impregnable barrier against magick assault, magma and brute force.

The vast majority of the underground is seething with magma, but the few islands of rock that exist are of mammoth proportions and provide the very sturdiest of foundations. Nonetheless, due to the volatile nature of our environment, the rock is anchored with magic and our specialist weavers monitor the foundations on a daily basis.
In times of peril, though the episodes of any true danger to the cities were decades and decades apart, the city's magic weavers would group together and weave a single, vast shield to engulf the entire city of which they were a part of. A difficult task, but they never failed.

The underground caverns, as aforementioned, are simply enormous. The heights vary but the highest span is above Sorenta, where the rocky ceiling streches to a dizzying height of 3 miles, straight up. Naturally it was a favourite destination of younger Seraphanes who wished to challenge themselves to see just how high they could climb.
It is also worth mentioning that the heat emanating from the magma also created great thermals upon which to ride and glide lazily upon and were enjoyed by many.

Serapahanian plumage is almost always a tone of red. Colours range from a very pale red, almost pink, through the whole spectrum of reds, including reddish-browns, crimson, burgundy and even sometimes black. Albinos are a very rare occurrence, one being born only once every century or so. They are revered by our people as they, for a reason unbeknown to us, always have the Sight. Our stories also tell that one of the greatest Spellweavers of our time, Rinadus, was an unusual but magnificent golden bronze colour.

Our markings vary somewhat too. Colours of markings tend to be variants of reds, browns and blacks, and it is not unusual for a Seraphane to have 'socks'. Other patterning includes striping on the back, naturally the amount and density varying from Seraphane to Seraphane. Mottling and spotting has also been seen, but the region of the most differenatiation is the wings. Most Serapahnes have a complex mottled or striped patterning on their wings - No two sets of wings are ever exactly the same. In certain cities, there is usually a predominance of one variety of patterning.

I however am a slightly unusual case. Gold and yellow markings occur naturally very seldom. As I am in one of the few in a position of importance and enjoy an elevated status, my feathers have been bonded with gold. When one comes into such a position, it is necessary in our society to 'mark' them, so they stand out in the broader community. If you set eyes on one who has been marked, then it is immediatley clear they are no ordinary Serapahne. To be marked is considered one of the greatest privileges one can accomplish. Marking is done by a specialist Spellweaver, who applies a liquid substance with gold dust in the desired patterns on the plumage. Needless to say, it needs to be done carefully as it is of a rather permanent nature. Botched patternings don't look so great. The patternings are then bonded to plumage and skin using magick. Even when we lose feathers, when they grow back they still have the golden patterning due to the magick involved in the bonding.

As mentioned, only certain positions are provided this privilege, including myself as Gatekeeper, the Yaseth; the high general, the Hirolai; the leader of the Spellweaver Academy, Korzaths; Princelings in waiting, heroes or those who have done great deeds who deserve to be honoured thus, and of course the Kurzan himself. Each position has certain patterning that represents to all that status. For example, the Princelings have a single golden streak down their back. If they ascend to power then as the new Kurzan their design is elaborated on to illustrate physically and outwardly their change in rank.

Most Seraphanes have a head crest and tail feathers. There are however those known as Jarhjiten, those that have what is considered above ground as a 'normal' tail due to a mixed parentage. They are not a common occurrence, but neither are they rare. We strive not to scorn or exclude these Seraphane as choice of parentage is something that is beyond their control. They do not have the same magnificent appearance as most Seraphane certainly, but nonetheless you will find them at all levels of our society and it certainly does not preclude them from obtaining positions of power or importance. Nonetheless, our society is not perfect and there are always some who view the Jarhjiten with contempt as they are not pure-blooded and are thus perceived as diminished in abilities and weak, lacking the 'heart of fire'. This has been found to be utterly inaccurate of course, but it is difficult to change long held perceptions and old prejudices.

1) Do not use in the BC (It's against the BC rules to enter other people's art and it will most likely end up with you being frozen)
2) Do not claim them as your own or remove my name
3) I don't mind if you upload your adoptable on to your own server, just make sure it still links back to this page
4) Do not alter them in any way
5) Do not take anyone else's custom!

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